Four Things in Common
by Alone Dreaming
Summary: Fill-in-the-blank. Jack is facing a decision. Tom injects his opinion. Jack's POV. Non-slash. One shot. Movie verse.


**_Four Things in Common_******

**By Alone Dreaming**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from _Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World_. If I did, this would not be posted under fanfiction. **

**Author's Note: This is a MOVIE based piece. I have not read the books though I have the intention of doing so. Because of it being movie based, I may very well have relationships wrong. You'll have to forgive me. All I know is what I have seen and this is my take on it. Please note- this is NOT slash. I saw no such love between Stephen and Jack in the movie. Jack was even writing to a woman at one point. So, this is a purely friendship based fanfic. Lastly- this has not been beta'd. I do not have a beta. I have looked through this myself and have corrected all I can find. Bear with me. I had the offer of a beta but was late at responding and have lost the offer. If anyone would be so kind as to lend me a hand, please email me (alonewritersdreamyahoo.com). I have a tendency to write one shot fics often for many categories. I would really appreciate a beta reader. **

**Enjoy this. Tell me what you think. CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome. I love to hear from people.**

The day was bright outside; the wind was strong enough to carry the ship forward but not tear the sails. The sun was bright, but not so brilliant that it scorched the crew. The air was warm yet it was not uncomfortably so. It was a perfect day. I was sitting by the window in my cabin, staring out over the vast expanse of see; and at that moment, I was damning that day. It didn't seem right that the sun could allow itself to shine so brightly when things were going so wrong. The day should have been dark, gloomy, reflecting my feelings at the time. However, God does not choose to form the day's weather to fit the demeanor of one man for one day; indeed, He seemed bent on doing the exact opposite.

I let a sigh escape me and allowed my eyes to wander the cabin. The decision still lay before me, and I knew that avoiding it would not help. Waiting would only make things worse, and perhaps cause the decision to be made without my consent. Every passing second we were drawing closer to one thing I desired, and farther away from something else I needed. The deadline for my choice was coming closer and closer. I had been sitting for hours, trying to come up with an answer; I was no closer than I had been when I had first sat down. That didn't matter though. Soon I would reach a point where I would have to decide what to do.

My eyes rested upon the old familiar cello. Dust was already starting to collect on it though it had only been a little while since its use. Or- perhaps it had been a while. When I thought about it, I could not remember the last time Stephen and I had played together. It had been before Hollom's suicide; perhaps even before we ran into the bad luck that had caused the aforementioned event. Stephen had been in and out of my cabin rarely, often only exchanging a few words with me; most of those words were not exactly happy either. However, during that time, he had not once touched the cello.

I stood and lightly ran my hand over the dusty, usually well-cared for strings. The instrument itself looked so very forlorn as though it had lost its master. 'It has,' I thought, my own heart crying. 'Its master has not played it for ages and soon, may never play it again.' As I moved my hands to finish cleaning the dust from the cello, it let out a hollow sound that seemed almost like a wail. I jerked my hands away and watched the last bit of dust fall down.

The instrument was crying for its fallen player. The inanimate object was able to do something that I, the great Jack Aubrey, could not. It cried for Stephen, and called for him. It wished to be with him. I could not even stand to be down by Stephen for but a few seconds. Lucky Jack could not bear to look at his greatest friend; I was such a cowered. Whenever I went to Stephen's hammock to see how his condition was, my heart would not allow me to look upon him. Tears would come to my eyes whenever I saw his pale face, or how sweat clung to his skin. And I, unlike the instrument, could not allow myself to shed tears.

I knew Stephen was on his deathbed if I chose to go after the ship we had seen. I knew then and there that I would lose Stephen to God if I did not turn back and find a place to go to shore. Higgins had made promises of removing the piece of shirt from the doctor's wound but it was clear that the incompetent man did not even know where to begin. The last time I visited down below, Higgins had been pouring over a book, drinking some alcoholic beverage; more than half the time he had looked both shocked and appalled by the book. As Higgins tried to muster up the strength to save Stephen, Stephen had simply been deteriorating.

As I turned back to the window, I remembered my words to him. How I had sworn that I would give up anything to find the _Acheron_; how I had told him that nothing else mattered. Now, God was getting back at me for saying such things. He was making me prove that I had meant what I said, or perhaps, trying to show me that I hadn't meant a word of it. I had a choice; Stephen or the _Acheron_. Which one was more important to me? Was it the _Acheron_; my sworn enemy? Or was it Stephen, my dearest friend who had ever been loyal to me?

The door to my cabin creaked open just as I pressed my forehead against the glass of the window. I did not look to see who it was. I did not want that person to see my face at the moment. My pride would not let me turn around and greet the person like I should have.

"Sir?" a strong and yet careful voice called. The voice sounded quite unsure of itself. "Sir, if I may speak with you."

It was Tom. I recognized his voice anywhere. He seemed nervous about something though. That was probably not a good sign. Even so, I wasn't in the mood to speak with anyone, not even him. I had half a mind to tell him to depart and leave me in my misery. Instead, I composed myself and turned to him. Stephen could be dying, yes; however, that did not change the fact that I was captain of this little wooden world. It was my job to stay strong and steady; and that was what I intended on doing.

But for how long?

"Yes, Tom?" I asked, slowly moving to sit down. The fact was I was trying to avoid collapsing. My legs were shaking with built up emotion. I felt like I had suddenly lost my sea legs.

Tom stood in front of me, his hat off and tucked under his arm. He seemed to be debating something internally as he moved to sit down across from me. A slight sigh escaped his lips and he sunk into the chair. Moving his hat to his lap, he studied it for a moment before lifting his face to meet my eyes.

"Sir, first off, I shall apologize for anything that I might say that will offend you," he said quite steadily. It was surprising really. From what I could see, his hands were shaking. He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. His eyes shut for a moment and he turned his face ever so slightly. Now he was staring out the window. "Hopefully, this beginning part shan't be offensive. We need to know your decision now, sir. Are we to continue our pace after the _Acheron_? Shall we prepare for attack?"

I allowed him to continue staring over my shoulder as I focused my gaze on the paper beneath me. There were papers everywhere, some depicting maps and others letters from home. There were a few that contained notes of our progress, and another scattered pile that held orders we had received. However, at the top of the pile was a paper that contained Stephen's neat and precise handwriting. It was a paper filled with the few notes he had taken while he viewed animals from the boat. The handwriting itself had my mind conjuring images of Stephen lying pale and ill in his hammock.

What would my decision be? I stared at Stephen's handwriting and then glanced over at the model of the _Acheron_. I could not have both of the things I wanted. I could not have my best friend and have the _Acheron_ as well. I could only have one. Which one was more important to me?

"Sir, may I have permission to speak my opinion on the matter?" Tom questioned his gaze once again upon my face.

I looked at him, and then turned away. Standing once more, trying to quell the shaking of my legs, I walked towards the window. "Speak, Tom."

Tom let out a soft sigh and his eyes began to drift around the cabin. I could see his reflection in the window. 'It needs to be cleaned,' I thought, running a finger down the window, frowning at the grime. 'I'll get Killick on it.' It took Tom a few minutes to get himself composed but he finally began to speak.

"Sir, to be quite honest, I think we should turn back and find shore," Tom murmured firmly. "Before you interrupt me, let me say what is on my mind. I fear if I do not let it out now, I shall never let it out at all. And if you make a choice you live to regret because I did not say what was on my mind, I will never forgive myself. This has been troubling me for a while and now that this whole situation has come to a head, I've decided to tell you what I think.

"You and I have known each other for quite a while. Since you were young, since I was young; it truly has been a long time. Never once have I ever doubted your judgment or your wisdom when it came to winning. Whenever I have worked with you, Jack, we have always won in the end. You know what you are doing, I give you that. You are a great captain; you fight to the end and yet, you know when it is better to run than confront an opponent. You have my infinite trust. I would never go against any of your commands. At least, not until now.

"As I said, we've known each other for a very long while. We have similar interests. We are friends, Jack, even more so than shipmates. We are friends. And for the longest time, I was- well- jealous of the doctor." I was glad I was not turned towards him. With me not facing him, he could not see the shock on my face. "You and he were so much closer than I was to you. It never made sense to me. I thought because we had similar interests and because we worked closer together that we would be closer than you and the doctor. I felt I had more of a right to your friendship than he did.

"I suppose it would be hard for you to see it from my point of view. I suppose I should explain a bit more. What do you have in common with Stephen, sir? Barely anything really - Yes, I know you wish to inject your opinion but hear me out – and it always shocked me how close the two of you were. You care very little for natural history, for biology, for studies, and that is all the doctor cares for. Now, the doctor, in turn, can barely stand fighting, government, or the ways of men for that matter. He could be locked up in a room for years and come out all the better because he would not have to deal with men and the way men treat each other. You are all about everything he cannot stand. What in the world do you two have in common?

"You are probably wondering if I am still jealous. I am not. I realize that there are some things I have which I must accept. I have your friendship, Jack, perhaps not to the same degree as Stephen but I have it all the same. That's all I need; I realize that now. And that, my friend, is partially why I am here. To apologize for that jealousy, and to make you understand why I would disobey your orders. Under-"

"What orders have you disobeyed, Tom?" I growled softly. What was this all about? Why was he here? Why was he telling me this? Did I need anything else in my head at the moment? No, I really did not.

"None yet, sir," he replied.

"Then what is the point of this?" I said, trying to keep my temper under control. "Why did you say you would not go against my orders until now?"

"May I finish, sir?" he said, tension lining his every word. "I said not until now, and I mean not until now. I have yet to disobey anything you say. You have my word at that. For God's sake, Jack, you have seen that yourself. I have never gone against you. I have always been at your side. Do not doubt me. I have yet to ever tell the crew to do something that you did not already command to happen. Please, let me finish." He did not wait for me to interrupt again.

"I have discovered with much thought what you and the doctor have in common. You have three things in common, Jack, and that is about it. It took me quite some time to actually discover those three things and if there is anything else the two of you both share then it shall take me another few years to discover it. You two do not even like your tea the same way.

"The first thing you both love is music. That is easy to know. The cello and the violin speak of it and Killick wails about it every time the two of you tune up. The crew, though you may not realize it, listens to it as they do their duties. They love the music, as do I. It is one thing that you and Stephen can do in total harmony. It is your one common interest; your only common love.

"The second thing is that you both love the crew. Stephen may hate warfare, he may hate human nature but he puts every fiber of his being into caring for the crew. He tends their every hurt, their every illness without complaint. He cares for them with the gentleness of an angel and gives them hope when they see their situation hopeless. You give the men courage and strength, Jack. You do not tend their outer wounds like Stephen, but you stir up the strength within them when we've been out at sea for weeks without sight of land.

"The third and last thing is that you both have the love of the crew. There has never been a crew that respects their captain more than our crew respects you. They would follow you to battle against Death itself if you were positive you could win. They trust you more than you'll ever understand. They never doubt your word; they never question your authority. And Stephen? I've already said it, but I'll say it again. He is their caretaker. He binds up their cuts and broken bones. He makes them well again. He tends their wounds. They love him, sir. I can say no more.

"At a point, I had it in my head that there were four things you all had in common. I shan't get into the fourth because I was wrong. I need to continue on topic anyway. The point is, sir, you both have the love of the crew. The crew would follow you anywhere, and they would do anything for Stephen, especially now that he is so ill. However, I have come to tell you that if you command us to go after the _Acheron_ that they may not be so willing to do your bidding.

"They trust you, Jack; they love you, Jack; but if the doctor shall die because we do not go ashore then they will turn back themselves. I, sir, who love you as well, will order them to turn back. I know what you think. They shall not listen to me. All you need to do is go tell them I am mad and lock me up. But sir, I'm not sure that will do much good. To be honest, they will not need the order. As it is, they are about an inch from turning around on their own. They know that it is the _Acheron_ ahead of us but they also know the condition of Stephen. Old Joe has been down, and Padeen has told anyone who asks about the doctor's health.

"It is a simple fact, Jack. I came down here to ask you your decision but I fear it is mostly out of your hands now. The crew has already decided. I have already decided. My heart rests with the doctor's recovery. God only knows what will happen if Higgins tries to operate out here at sea. The blasted man has no idea what he is doing in the first place without the hindrance of the moving ship. He will not be able to help Stephen. You can no longer cling to that hope.

"So, sir, I suppose I am really here to inform you. I am here to inform you that the crew shall be turning this ship around and we shall be heading to the nearest piece of land that we can find, in hopes of discovering a doctor to heal our own doctor. Should you choose to go after the _Acheron_ you will be doing quite a bit of whipping for mutiny and I promise you, you shall be the only one without a sore back. And, even after it all, you'll be sailing this vessel on your own."

Tom's face was covered in a sweat, and his hair was clinging to his neck. He was speaking to his knees at this point, his hands balled up in his lap. I was too stunned to speak for quite sometime. All I could do was stand and stare out the window. I knew if I tried to move, my legs would probably drop out from under me. I did not speak for I did not trust my voice. What Tom had just said to me seemed so surreal, I was truly at a loss for words. So, I stood, and waited for my mind to come up with something suitable to say.

Nearly five minutes later, I found my lips moving though I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say. What exited my mouth actually surprised me, and I believe surprised Tom as well. "What was the fourth thing that we had in common, Tom?"

Tom was flabbergasted and did not respond immediately. He stood up, his eyes now focused on the ground. His hat was slipped back underneath his arm, and he raised his head. His eyes were filled with some emotion that I could not identify.

"Love for each other, sir, but I fear that is not true anymore," he whispered softly. "Should I tell the crew of your decision? Should I tell them to turn back towards land?"

'You didn't make that decision' my mind screamed at me. 'You did not say you wanted to turn around. He is trying to bend you to his will! He deserves a flogging! He is being rebellious! You should have him clapped in irons….' I took in a deep breath, silencing my mind. I head that breath, keeping the voice suppressed.

"You may tell them, Mr. Pullings," I murmured in a barely audible tone. "That their CAPTAIN orders them to head back towards the Galapagos." I knew that he was relieved. I think he was expecting me to have him tossed overboard. I have to admit that I had half a mind to do it. Then I realized that he would be missed and that the crew would simply have another reason to defy me. "And Mr. Pullings...."

Tom was focused on me, his eyes more nervous than I had ever seen them. The brief relief that had filled him was clearly gone. "Yes, sir?"

"Thank you."

In the window I saw Tom nod. He saluted, and slowly backed away towards the door. When he was mostly certain that he was close enough to the door to escape my wrath (if I suddenly decided to release it upon him), he turned his back to me and rushed out. The door closed with a slight slam, and I let out an exhausted huff of breath. My knees gave and I sank onto the floor.

The decision had been made for me long before I had even started to worry about it.

****

**The ending was lacking admittedly. I was planning on writing more to this but it didn't flow well. Instead, the ending I was planning (when it is finished) will be another one shot fic. I know this didn't contain much Stephen but I wanted to do a bit on what Tom thought; not to mention what really made Jack turn around. Any complaints about name misspellings (unless they were seen one way in this story and then another later on) can be taken to the directory book from the special edition of the movie. I looked them all up. Thank you for reading. **


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